It took a while for Yewon to process. “You were the one who killed Sir Jeonghan.” You? Meaning the person that the letter was addressed to. Meaning Soonyoung. Soonyoung killed Jeonghan.

What? It didn’t fit in with anything that she knew. Jeonghan was murdered by that Mingyu person who confessed to the crime and was executed for it. Soonyoung was a lot of bad things, but he was not a murderer­– he was traumatized even by the mere thought of death; he was afraid of death, and it didn’t seem like he was pretending. Lastly, what possible reason would anyone have to kill Jeonghan besides politics, and Soonyoung was so uninterested in politics.

It didn’t make any sense.

She read it again. Just to make sure that there wasn’t anything she missed, that there was something she misread or misinterpreted. As her nerves began to trouble her and her eyes rescanned the words, she heard the door shut.

Alarmed, she dropped the letter and looked up to face the person who closed the door.

Soonyoung stood there, his back against the door as if he were guarding it, his body stiff and slightly trembling. His breathing was heavy, and he looked more stressed than she had ever seen him.

“Put it back,” he stammered, pointing at the piece of the letter.

Yewon suddenly felt overcome with fear. She was afraid of him, the alleged murder. A murderer. Was she really in a room alone with a murderer right now? She felt her life flash before her eyes, and she froze, her limbs shaking with trepidation.

Soonyoung drew closer, making her freeze. He picked up the letter and placed it in its rightful place, placing a bunch of books over it to hide it, before closing the drawer again.

He stood up and faced her, whose eyes were wide with terror.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her, gulping.

She couldn’t find her voice to answer him.

“I didn’t kill him, Yewon,” Soonyoung denied. “I swear on my life, I didn’t.”

That calmed her down enough for her unfreeze slightly, looking at him with eyes prying for further explanation.

Soonyoung took a moment to gather his thoughts before he came out with his explanation: “On the night of Jeonghan’s murder, I was on my way to the harem when I found…” Soonyoung hesitated. “I found Mingyu. You remember Mingyu, right? The actual killer?” Soonyoung paused to see if she showed signs of remembering him or if she seemed to believe him. She only stared at him, waiting for him to continue his story.

Soonyoung gulped and continued: “Mingyu was half-, struggling to remove the rest of his bloodstained clothes. He saw me, and…” Soonyoung took a deep breath. “I was obviously aroused, and he took advantage of that. I dragged him into my room and... Look, when I’m aroused, I don’t think, Yewon. I just go for it, and I went for it.”

It looked very difficult for Soonyoung to confess this, but the explanation very much relieved Yewon’s nerves, because this explanation fit so much better than what she read in Seokmin’s letter. This made so much more sense.

“Do you believe me?” he asked her with a hopeful expression on his face.

She didn’t answer him.

“I’m not a killer,” he repeated, shaking his head. He let out a deep breath and collapsed into a nearby chair. “I swear, I’m not a killer. I could never end a life, even if ending a life would be the right thing to do,” he muttered; he was still trembling.

Something about the way he said it–with a faltering voice laced with regret and self-doubt– that made her believe him.

“I believe you,” she managed, although she still felt like there were many holes in Soonyoung’s explanation. There was something that he was hiding. There was so much she wanted him to clarify; so much that still didn’t make sense; so much that she didn’t understand.

She asked him whether he got suspicious seeing Mingyu covered in blood, and Soonyoung answered that he didn’t think about it then. He was just concerned about satisfying his own lust, and that the blood on Mingyu’s body somehow made it feel more exciting.

She asked him why he hid the letter if he had nothing to hide, and he explained that he did have something to hide, and that was having aberrant physical relations with a man. He didn’t want anyone to know, and so he hid the letter.

That made sense, she guessed. Although she was not entirely satisfied with the explanation, she chose to accept it, because to further question it would confuse her.

“I also don’t want Seungcheol to know that I unknowingly helped Jeonghan’s murderer escape,” Soonyoung told her. “When Mingyu came, he burned his clothes in the fireplace, and I just let him. I let him get away.”

“But he didn’t get away,” Yewon reminded Soonyoung.

“He turned himself in,” Soonyoung replied quickly.

“And why didn’t you turn him in?” Yewon asked. “You saw a strange man covered in blood the night that Jeonghan was murdered!”

Soonyoung took a deep breath, took a moment to articulate his words, and then answered, “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t put two and two together at the time. I didn’t suspect that the strange, blood-covered man in my bed would be the one who killed Jeonghan. I only realized the truth when he turned himself in. And I hate it. I hate that I laid with a murderer, Yewon,” Soonyoung told her; his voice was unsteady and tinged with deep regret.

Yewon found that she subconsciously accepted that story.

“Please keep it a secret,” Soonyoung earnestly requested. “Please.”

Yewon agreed to keep the secret, because she didn’t see any point in telling anyone. She wished she hadn’t read the letter herself; she didn’t need to know this. All that this information gave her was a temporary heart attack thinking that that Soonyoung was about to murder her.

It also made her realize that Soonyoung was much stupider than she originally thought.

-

It had been a crazy day. She found out she was sterile, felt the world collapse, and then met Wonwoo, who gave her hope again. Then she found out the disturbing connection that Soonyoung had to Jeonghan’s murderer. It was all so overwhelming, that by the end of the day, Yewon was mentally drained. She just felt numb all over her body, and just wanted to sleep.

Haein was waiting for her to get her into her sleeping gown.

One look at her made Yewon feel even worse, as her maid’s belly was becoming more obvious, and Yewon felt so jealous that it made her want to cry.

Haein put her arms around Yewon comfortingly. “I heard from Wonwoo,” she told Yewon as she squeezed her tight. “I’m so sorry, princess.”

Yewon hugged Haein back, feeling Haein’s bump against her own belly. How she wished the two bellies could be exchanged. That would solve so many problems right now.

“I’ll try everything I can, my sweet,” she told Yewon as she embraced her. “I’ll work day and night to find the antidote. I know Wonwoo told you it might take more than four months, but I’m going to try my best to find it before then, okay?”

Yewon was touched the sincere support that made her feel hopeful in such a hopeless time. Haein pulled away and kissed Yewon cheek.

“As long as I’m alive, I will serve you, your highness,” Haein told her. “And I will do everything I can for you.” Yewon felt so grateful to have Haein in her life.

It was then that the door opened, and Seungcheol walked in. Haein stepped back, bowed to both Yewon and Seungcheol, and walked out to give the two of them their privacy.

The last time she spoke with Seungcheol, they were fighting after having not spoken in a long time. Seungcheol’s letter had made some amends, but there was still a tension between them made clear by how neither would say anything to greet the other.

Seungcheool took off his crown and his jacket and then took a seat on her bed to take off his shoes, as he usually did when he visited her at nights.

She realized that she would be the one to break it to him that she couldn’t give him the heir that he so desired, but it didn’t have to be presented as bad news, she thought. Maybe he would be thrilled to know that he wasn’t the one who was sterile.

She took a seat beside him and gathered the strength to tell him what she found out today.

Before she could open to say anything, he took her chin in his hand and pulled her in for a kiss. It felt almost like an apology kiss, and Yewon accepted that apology by climbing onto his lap and deepening it.

When their breathing grew louder and there was more heat between their bodies, Yewon finally decided to break the silence and speak. She cut their kiss and rested her forehead against his. He looked eager to take her lips again, but she stopped him by saying: “you’re not infertile.”

“What?” he replied through heavy breaths.

“You can still have an heir,” she told him.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“I’m the sterile one, Seungcheol.”

He narrowed his eyes. She got off his lap and set herself to his side, and elaborated: she told him what Soonyoung had said, and showed him the piece of Seokmin’s letter. She also revealed that Haein and Wonwoo are trying to find the antidote, but neither knew whether they would be able to do it in four months.

Seungcheol seemed mostly bewildered the entire time. He didn’t say a word; he just listened with wide, confused eyes.

After she was done telling him everything, he took a minute to take it all in before saying: “If I kill your brother, don’t hate me.” There was something about the way that he said that which worried her, like he was serious about killing Jihoon. Yewon resented her brother for sure, but she did not want him to die.

“You’re not serious about that, right?” she asked hopefully.

Seungcheol had clenched fists at this point, and the anger was seeping out of him though he clearly wished to contain it. “Please excuse me, your highness,” he told her. He bowed to her, grabbed his jacket and his crown, and left without another word.

-

When the Queen found out that she would likely not be able to conceive anymore, she had not taken it well at all. She locked herself in her room and refused to go to any meals. Yewon hadn’t seen her in days.

Yulhee did not seem to care much, too young to appreciate what it means to be able to have children. Her only concern was that it meant she would always get periods, and she hated periods.

The King had commissioned alchemists to help Haein and Wonwoo with their search for the antidote, but apparently, the alchemists were skeptical. They weren’t convinced that they could find anything to reverse the poison’s effect, because they weren’t even sure what the poison was.

Their skepticism had rubbed off on the King. He didn’t seem to have much hope in the search for the antidote at all.

“You do understand that it can’t continue like this, right?” he told both Seungcheol and Yewon a few days after the revelation. “We can just hold off and wait for an antidote that might not ever be found.”

From this, Yewon knew that the King had already decided something that would upset her.

The King took a deep breath and relayed his news to the two of them: “a delegation from China is coming in a few weeks to resurrect the broken alliance. They will bring an unmarried princess with them, and I will have Seungcheol meet her.”

Already?

Yewon wanted to complain and yell and tell the King that she didn’t agree and that the four months he promised her were still not over, but she felt meek and powerless. Perhaps she would have been encouraged to say something if Seungcheol protested, even just a little bit, but he remained silent at her side.

“He’s only going to meet her,” the King clarified when he saw how Yewon’s expression fell. “The official proposal to her will only happen after four months, and after the official divorce. I promise you that much at least.”

She knew that the King was trying to make her feel better with that, but instead, she felt like her heart was being painfully crushed by how final he made it seem: an official divorce will happen; Seungcheol will remarry. It was as if it was hopeless for her, and those four months were nothing but some kind of pity charity from the King.

When the King left them alone, she turned to her husband and faced him. “So that’s it?” she asked him.

“I can’t fight this,” he replied. “We need an heir.” From the way that his voice wavered, she could tell that he was also distressed.

Yewon didn’t reply to him. She just walked past him, desperate not to show him how heartbroken she felt by what he just told her.

So they needed an heir. But do you really?! She desperately wanted to challenge him: So what if you don’t have an heir? So what if he remains childless? So what if the pure lineage isn’t continued? So what if Soonyoung becomes King after Seungcheol? So what if the crown is passed down to Soonyoung’s children and not his own? So what?

She backed down on that challenge, because she didn’t think she could handle it if he told her that power was more important to him than she was.

However, it was becoming painfully obviously that that was true.

When she was back in her room, she collapsed onto her bed and dwelt on how instantly even the most seamless arrangements can crumble. For a short while, she had thought that her relationship with Seungcheol was perfect. He loved her (or so he told her– once), and she loved him. They trusted one another, respected one another, and became intimate in all possible ways. And then the war was over, and everything was almost picture-perfect.

Their happiness was reversed in a moment, and now it was all plummeting into ruin. It happened too fast and too suddenly, and she felt like her entire life was tripping.

Life was so different from the stories. “Love” does not trump all. Power. That’s what trumps all.

Seungcheol entered her room in the midst of her lamenting thoughts. She was not surprised to see him at all. This often happened: she gets angry and goes to her room. He feels bad, goes to her and tries to make things better. Most of the time, it worked, but now she wasn’t so sure it would anymore. Unless he fulfills her hopeless, romantic, young, girly fantasy and stood up to his father to fight for her, which seemed unlikely at this point.

“Prince Seungcheol wishes to deliver this letter to you,” Seungcheol said, giving her a letter with the royal seal on it.

She narrowed her eyes at him, a little amused. This was the first time she ever heard him refer to himself in the third person. From the relatively soft expression on his face, Yewon could tell that he was trying to be amusing.

“Why is Prince Seungcheol delivering the letter to me personally?” she asked as she took the letter from him.

“He wishes to see her highness’ reaction to the letter,” Seungcheol answered.

“Why can’t his highness just say it out loud?” Yewon asked.

“Oh no, he couldn’t possibly do that. Her highness will understand once she reads it.”

Yewon opened the letter and began to read.

My dearest princess,

Do you still know that I love you? I’m afraid that my actions have made you forget that.

Remember a while ago, you told me that you wanted a nickname and you suggested being called the moon? Well, that image has stuck with me for a long time, because it’s so perfect. Yewon, you are like the moon to me.You were the one who gave me both light direction after the sun had set, and became the only source of light in my black and starless sky.

You often ask me “when” I started loving you, and I know never answer out loud. But I will answer you in writing: I don’t know when I started- I just did. But I do know that I only realized that I did shortly after I started to see you as the moon. Because no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I didn’t, I really, really do love my moon in the same way that I once loved the sun. Both the moon and the sun have given me light and hope. Both the moon and the sun are beautiful and bright. Neither is more important than the other, rather, each takes its rightful place in the timeline of my life. You, my moon, take up that latter and darker part of my life.

You are unmistakably the moon, but Solen is the ground that I stand on. And so I need to maintain it or I lose all purpose in life and fall into a bottomless pit of emptiness. It’s for this reason and this reason only that I can’t say anything against my father’s wishes that I remarry.

You are my only source of light and the only thing that gives me a sense of direction. Solen is my source of stability and my home. I cannot choose between the two of you, my ground and my moon.

I know our uncertain future is making you nervous. Trust me, I am just as nervous. But what I do know is that I would never willingly let you go.

If things do not work, and despite our best efforts, no seed could be sowed, I might have to move on from you as my official wife. However, I will never move on from you as my lover. I can be married to someone else, but you will always be the one gracing my skies with your light.

My dear Yewon, as hard a transition it would be, would you stay by my side as my mistress, even if you couldn’t as my wife?

Yewon lifted her head from the letter and looked at him. He stood there with a hopeful look in his eye, as if waiting for an answer from her.

The love confession in the letter made her heart race, but it was slowed down almost immediately when he wrote that he still would remarry. A part of her wanted to tear the letter and throw it at him, and another part wanted to run into his arms and agree to stay with him, even if she would become nothing but “a mistress.”

Neither part of her overpowered the other. Instead she just felt torn and confused and frustrated, both at him and at herself.

Why did it have to come to this? Why couldn’t he just refuse to marry another? Why was she the one who had to sacrifice to be with him? Why was it so important to him? Why? Why? Why?

“I don’t want to think about this now,” Yewon finally said putting the letter to the side and shaking her head. Just the thought of being his mistress made her shudder. “If I have to, I’ll think about it in four months,” she promised. She still held on to the hope that she wouldn’t have to, that the antidote would be found and she would be cured of this accursed malady.

Seungcheol nodded his head.

But I still wish that you would fight for me just a little more, she wanted to tell him. But she was afraid of sounding clingy and desperate, afraid of sounding delusional and unrealistic. She was afraid he would respond with something snarky like “real life isn’t like the novels.”

She already knew that all too well.

-

A/N: i hope everyone’s feeling okay